


At the Cape

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: A war injury means that Klinger needs looking after. The MASH crew nominates Charles.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	At the Cape

If asked to imagine the most improbable situation he would face in civilian life, Charles Emerson Winchester III wouldn’t have been able to come up with the strange fix in which he now found himself. 

Since returning to the States, the brilliant, broken men and women of the 4077th had been looking after one another, stepping up and stepping in when one of their members started to struggle. Winchester supposed that he ought to be grateful that he wasn’t saddled with Pierce. Watching after Klinger, who had, in the waning days of the war, suffered an injury to his lungs, proved to be really quite fun. 

It turned out that Klinger had never seen the Atlantic Ocean; as they traveled, he maneuvered around to keep it always in sight, making Charles smile. It reminded him of being a child, awed by the sea. He thought of telling Klinger that he’d happily take him right into the water, but decided to just sit back and let him enjoy the ride. One thing he did intend to do was introduce Klinger to New England cuisine; the man had gotten entirely too thin in the time they’d been apart. 

Honoria was waiting for them on the clamshell walk. Charles had seen her just a few weeks ago, but now he got to visit with her away from their overbearing parents and he hurried into her embrace. “Honey-vine!” 

“Ch-ch-charles!” 

Held in his arms, she couldn’t see his face fall. He’d (somehow stupidly) completely forgotten to prepare Klinger for Honoria’s speech disorder. His heart ached for her (meeting new people was always a challenge) and also for Klinger who was already so far out of his element. 

“In-in-introduce me, br-br-brother, mine.” 

Klinger stepped forward, a little shy, and took her hand in both of his. “Maxwell Klinger. It’s so wonderful to meet you, Miss Winchester. Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your summer.” 

Charles couldn’t have said it better and somehow - in a way he’d never seen occur with anyone else - Klinger appeared  _ completely oblivious _ to Honoria’s stutter. He watched her face as if she was some sort of treasure (which, to Charles, she, of course, was) and remained patiently attentive no matter how long it took her to get out her words. He never rushed to finish a broken phrase or try to anticipate what she intended to say. 

Then, Charles watched, silently aghast, as Klinger gently took on the role of serving tea, letting Honoria direct him. “My favorite job was in a delicatessen,” he told her with a smile. “Let me earn my keep, ma’am.” 

If that wasn’t enough, he then became a raconteur, telling the best stories from their time in the service. These tales were never off-color or mean-spirited, and they drew Charles into adding his remembrances. Honoria clapped her hands in delight. 

“I sh-sh-should have wr-written to Sergeant Kl-Klinger, Ch-Charles! You left out all the g-g-good stories!”

“Your brother just didn’t want to tell you how important he was to all of us at MASH 4077,” said Klinger. “And you can call me Max, ma’am.” 

Sitting back in the ornate, antique chair, Charles thought that he’d never been happier... and wasn’t that quite interesting? 

***

Somehow, from that very first day, Klinger became the best part of those summer days at the Cape, fitting himself into their lives so seamlessly that it was as if they had spent every summer together. Nor was it just Charles who welcomed their expansion into an island trio; Honoria thrived on his gentle attention, the way he listened and remembered whatever she cared to say. It made Charles a little sad; perhaps in being so central a figure in her life, he had inadvertently robbed her of other companions. Certainly he could do better, Klinger unknowingly taught him, at listening; his typical response when confronted with undesired information was to dismiss it. How many things had seemed dull to him at the time but were actually important to Honoria? He did not know for sure; he only knew that talking to the attentive former Sergeant as they collected shells or pulled taffy or poured over catalogues made her smile. 

Early in their visit, she insisted they dress in their class As. “I want he-heads to turn when I st-stroll in on the arm of t-two handsome soldiers!” she enthused. 

Charles asked his friend for his indulgence with his eyes, but he’d forgotten Klinger’s compulsive love of clothes. “Anything you want,” the Sergeant agreed. “I’m sure your brother told you about my wartime wardrobe.”

Charles hadn’t and Honoria tapped him sharply with her fan. “I’m n-never again trusting you as a c-correspondent, Charles!” She turned to Klinger. “All I ever got to r-read about was his s-s-suffering!” 

Charles made amends for his omissions at dinner, detailing his shock at his first sight of Klinger, but admitting he’d come to be impressed by the quality of his designs. “The closest runway was in Tokyo, but the civilizing influence of the latest fashion was always near at hand.”

Klinger lifted his glass as if to toast him. “I didn’t know you paid attention, Major.” 

Charles would have teased him about the title, but he  _ was  _ in his dress uniform. “When you wore the blue velvet it was impossible not to.” 

His tone made Klinger sit up and give him a questioning look, but he didn’t say anything; he just looked pleased. 

“You must allow me to b-borrow your expert-tise, Sergeant,” said Honoria. “I’ve been meaning to reorder my war-wardrobe.” 

Charles pretended despair. “I will never see either of you again,” he predicted. 

It didn’t turn out  _ exactly  _ that way. He did lose the pair in piles of nylons and ribbons for a time, but Honoria paraded her new looks for him and, as he worked in his study, he sometimes sat his reading aside to grin at the sound of their laughter. 

More concerning was the sporadic sound of Klinger’s coughing. The sea air helped, but Charles feared he’d carry the effects of his injury for the rest of his life. As a doctor, he knew that justice had no part in the way that illness and injury were visited on the human body. But as Klinger’s friend, he found himself combing the medical journals for the latest research on how to treat damaged lungs. He tried to tell himself that this was the responsible act of a professional - keeping up with advancements in his field - but he couldn’t even fool himself with the lie. 

But his worries were hard to hold onto when he looked out of the office window and saw the man he’d taken under his protection (grudgingly and with a good deal of whining at the time) and his sister darting around the beach and into the tideline, holding up their treasures.  _ Oh my. The children are hunting for seashells.  _

He wondered if he should intervene. Was Honoria dragging Klinger into something he didn’t want to do? He looked happy enough, but that was sort of a default setting. Then again, maybe he should just be glad Klinger wasn’t teaching Honoria how to play dice. He watched them head for the newly revealed strip of wet sand, knew Honoria was showing Klinger how to feel under it with his feet. 

He heard their shouts and laughter when they unearthed the conch. And then Honoria was calling for him. “Ch-charles come see our shell!” And he went, because he had been going when she called since her calls were an infant’s cries. He was prepared to praise the shell, its pink lining impossible as satin or a splash of color on canvas, but he wasn’t prepared for the eager smile Klinger gave him. 

“I’ve never seen a big seashell,” the Corporal admitted. “I only saw the little ones at Inchon.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Charles agreed, fingers stroking the shell, still wet with sea water. Honoria gave him a questioning look; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Charles sound that way, like the world was fresh and new and empty of pain. 

She didn’t get a chance to ask him, however. He saw Klinger shiver at the touch of rising wind. “It’s going to become quite chill as we lose the light,” he told them. “The two of you ought to come inside and get warm.” 

“We could get warm out here,” said Klinger, snapping his fingers. “Beach bonfire, Major?” 

Honoria laughed at his stunned look and bumped playfully against Klinger. “S-sergeant, di-did you for-forget who you’re visiting? Win-Winchesters don’t w-work with their hands!” 

“Lucky you’ve got me, then!” So saying, he taught the Winchester siblings how to arrange the kindling to catch. Soon the sweetness of the woodsmoke rose to mingle with the salt of the sea. 

Honoria stayed until the moon floated away on the tide, then yawningly retired. Charles watched the face of his friend across the flames and thought of many things he might have said… but said none of them. He did, however, accept the conch as a gift, placing it on his desk at work. 

***

He worked late into the next night in the city, but surprised himself when he called the beach house to check on his sister and his guest. Honoria answered, but her stutter was acting up and she quickly grew tired and handed the phone off. 

“Hiya, Major. Everything okay?” 

Charles smiled because he could so easily conjure the image of Klinger’s smile. “That is what I am calling to ask you. I apologize for having to have come in.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re already taking me in for the whole season.” 

“Maxwell, you have been a delight. I would relish having you with us every summer if your work permits it and I know Honoria feels the same.” He hurried on because he was even less accustomed to hearing himself thanked for compliments than he was to making them. “How are you feeling?” 

“You worry too much.”

“That isn’t an answer, exactly.” 

“I’m fine.”

“Coughing?”

“A little, yeah. It’s nothing to worry about, Major.”

Winchester couldn’t do otherwise than to take him at his word, but he felt like the other man sounded weaker than he should have and worry nagged at him in spite of Klinger’s reassurances. 

These fears were gently dispelled when he returned at 1:17 AM. He peeked into the den to find Honoria and Klinger laughing together at some film, a bowl of candy between them. They both had blankets Honoria must have pulled down from the linen closet and Klinger wore a scarf that Charles suspected was more functional than decorative. The two were enjoying themselves so well that he just smiled and left them to their slumber party. 

***

At 3:46, the house was quiet. So quiet that the soft endless coughs, the anxious search for breath in their aftermath, was perfectly audible to the doctor’s ears. Wrapping himself in a robe, he moved quietly down the halls; open windows admitted the sound of the sea and made him think in poetry:  _ Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!  _ But it was a sad poem, full of loss and withdrawing, retreating like the breath from his friend’s wounded lungs. 

He entered without knocking. “Max?”

“Hey, Major.” He paused to cough again. “Did I wake you?” 

“No. May I sit with you?”

“Sure.” 

“Maxwell, I knew how you felt about me in Korea, did you know that?” 

“Yeah. You flirted back.” He saw his shock and shoved him gently. “Teasing, Major.” 

“I wasn’t in love with you then.” He  _ saw  _ Klinger hear him, saw him register the verb tense. He nodded. “I am now.” 

“Charles…” 

“So you  _ can  _ say my name. I  _ have  _ wondered.”

Klinger was shaking softly; he didn’t want to start coughing again because he didn’t want to miss this. “You gonna tell me what I did to change your mind? If sea air was the trick, I’d have gone to Inchon with you and walked on those beaches.” 

“You are lovely by the water, but no. When you met Honoria, you treated her the way  _ I  _ do, even though I’d quite forgotten to tell you about her voice. It made me remember how vast your kindness is, how great your heart. I could live there forever.” He took his hand. “If you’ll still have me, Max?” 

The affirmation he would have given was interrupted by the coughing fit he’d been warding off, but Charles must have seen something in his eyes because he gathered him up and eased him through it. “Breathe with me,” he instructed, tone gentle, breaths measured. “I know it’s not easy, but try.” 

Klinger did try, but the fear in his eyes hurt the man holding him to his chest. Charles wanted his stethoscope (had Klinger’s lung capacity decreased?) but he thought the Corporal could use his warmth and his touch more than his clinical skill. The fit lasted, by his count, six minutes, but the slow measured breaths he was taking as if he could take them  _ for  _ Klinger made it seem longer. 

“Romantic proposals another time,” he said definitively. “Let’s focus on comfort tonight.”

Klinger gave him a comically annoyed look. “Seriously, Major? After three years, you say you’ll make all my dreams come true  _ later _ !?” 

“Max, the inability to breathe does not, for most individuals, heighten pleasure.”

“You’re a brilliant doctor, right? Resuscitate me if you have to.” 

“You are the most unconventional flirt I’ve ever met.”

“I’m the most unconventional  _ anything  _ you’ve ever met. Come on, Major. You’re the smartest person I know. There has to be something you’ll sign off on until this coughing eases up.” 

“I am holding you.”

“Oh.” He snuggled back against him, feeling more than he ever had. 

Charles kissed his hair. “When you catch your breath, I’ll take you dancing. How does that sound?” 

The idea of being held and led by this elegant, handsome man perked him up considerably.  _ Heal _ , he silently told his lungs.  _ Don’t blow this for us.  _

“I can dress pretty?” he asked hopefully. 

“Darling, dress however you like. I’ve watched your legs in skirts and fatigues and the view is equally lovely.” 

Klinger turned to be sure he was serious. “I wish I’d known you were watching, Major.” 

“I will tell you all about it until you fall asleep. You take deep breaths for me. Deal?” 

Klinger happily agreed, then listened and struggled to believe. Overcome, he stroked Charles’ fingers to keep himself calm. 

***

Charles turned the doorknob like a cat burglar auditioning for a part in a jewel heist. Klinger slept on, breathing no longer ragged. He stood a minute watching him, smiling. He had never considered a life spent with someone who was fun to praise, but speaking small, gentle truths and sharing memories with Klinger last night had been wonderful. They’d laughed so much! He had tried to stop it (with the coughing, laughter  _ wasn’t  _ the best medicine), but Klinger’s shining eyes soon had him back at it. He touched the edge of his mouth; it  _ hurt  _ with smiling so much! 

As he rounded the corner landing, another smiling face appeared. “Good morning, C-Charles. Late night at w-work?” 

“Yes.” It was technically true, though in light of the new adventure he was embarking on, work seemed very far away. 

Her eyes were too knowing. “D-does he kiss as pretty as he laughs?” 

_ Oh dear _ . 

She studiously ignored the various shades that rose in his cheeks - a palette of pinks and chalk, mostly - and set out glasses. 

He forgot how to speak for a time, but accepted the champagne flute she placed in his hand. “Honoria, it’s seven o’clock in the morning.”

“Charles, you’re thirty-six years old. I-I’ve been w-waiting rather a-w-while to do this.” She lifted her glass. “To S-sergeant Maxwell Klinger. V-very few people are b-brave enough to join the W-winchester clan,”

“Without a substantial prenup, anyway,” Charles muttered.

“Welcome,” she finished. “And be well.” 

“You don’t actually know anything happened.”

“Of course I do. I o-opened champagne, Charles. You know I’m afraid of t-those s-stupid flying corks!” Then she kissed his cheek. “I love you, Ch-Charles. I love him, too. Be g-good to him - and t-try being k-kinder to yourself.”

He agreed and went to start the day. Throughout it, his hand strayed to the edges of his mouth in gentle wonder and delight. 

***

Loving Klinger refreshed the Cape for Charles. Activities he’d quite taken for granted were renewed by the beautiful figure at his shoulder. He took Klinger out on the water to see whales and saw those dark eyes well at the sight of the mammoth sea beasts, his hands stretched out as if to take them in by touch. 

“You are beautiful,” he told them with their alien forms and the shifting colors of their skin and Charles smiled because he was, for the briefest instance, jealous of cetaceans! “Major,” he would say later, “do you think if everyone looked at something like them, we’d still have wars?” 

Charles chose not to dwell on Asia’s whaling industry. “I think if we were all lucky enough to have eyes like yours, we would not.” 

***

He took Klinger dancing, too, first in the house’s too large parlor, where they spun too fast and grew so warm and winded from laughing that when they sank down, they didn’t make it to the couch - they just collapsed together onto the floor, tangled - then at the A-house where such things were discreetly permitted. They danced slowly there, Charles proud to have such a beautiful man in his arms, Klinger seeing nothing but him. They danced, too, on the beach in the moonlight, their feet in the surf. Charles still worried at the way Klinger coughed, and he only entered his bed to hold him when he was unwell. Max made no move to rush him; he liked being courted. 

One summer morning, Charles awoke to find the house empty and a note that told him that Honoria and Klinger were shopping.  _ What a pair _ , he thought, chuckling, knowing he’d be in for a runway show that evening. Until then, he settled in with his symphonies. 

Honoria, meanwhile, was delighted with her escort. Klinger was a patient sidekick, knowledgeable about fashion, and didn’t even scold her about spending Charles’ money - though he did suggest they get something  _ for _ the Major. 

She laughed at the title. “You can c-call him by his n-name, sweetie,” she teased. “You don’t call him M-major in b-bed, do you?” 

He looked not embarrassed, as she’d expected, but gently befuddled. She thought of Charles’ response to her breakfast champagne.  _ Oh, surely, my dear, you aren’t that  _ **_stupid_ ** , she thought.  _ He’s beautiful!  _ And God knew it would do Charles good; Honoria didn’t doubt that there were discreet trysts that she was unaware of… but she didn’t think there had been many. 

Over a cheese plate and fizzy, fruity drinks, she decided to meddle. 

“Maxwell, I s-say this for the good of the un-union. I have no i-idea why Ch-Charles is dragging his f-feet, but don’t be polite. Not about t-this. I do not have a ca-calendar day to prove it to y-you, but trust the in-intuition of a  _ very  _ doting s-sister. That st-stupid man, d-dear to b-both of us though he is, has not had sex in a v-very long time.”

Klinger looked like he might melt right out of sight under the table. “ _ Honoria!”  _ he whined, scandalized. 

“Y-you sound just l-like him,” she informed him with a smile. “Look, I tell y-you this for y-your own good - and his. We b-both know you were in l-love with him in K-korea. Two y-years of foreplay is plenty.” 

“I’m not gonna say yes. It should be his decision.”

“You-you’re so loyal. It’s adorable. A-allow him to  _ make  _ it then. J-just lay the gr-groundwork.” 

“Is this what all your outfit suggestions have been about?” 

“Not  _ all  _ of t-them. The ankle br-bracelet, perhaps. He c-can’t keep his eyes off of your l-legs.” She scandalized him then with a shrug. “But who c-could, really?” 

***

That night at dinner the pretty Corporal was fidgety. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to bed with the man he loved (in Korea he’d cried Charles’ name into a pillow so many times he’d worn a hole with scorched edges) - but now he had a  _ directive _ . 

Seduce Charles? He’d have more luck flapping to the moon. It wasn’t a matter of rank, but Klinger wanted to be led in this rather than lead. And he wished his thoughts would quiet down. Watching Charles eat a plum had become a very challenging - arousing - experience, it seemed. He excused himself as soon as he could and bolted for the tideline. 

Across the table, Charles saw his sister smile into her wine. He raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?” 

“C-calm down. I bought you b-boyfriend clothes.”

“And?”

“And w-why aren’t you s-sleeping with him?” 

A silver spoon clattered against fine China. “He would not have divulged that!”

“ _ He _ didn’t. I g-guessed. I don’t know h-how the man ever won at c-cards. No poker face at a-all.” 

“He prefers dice, I believe. And I prefer for my darling sister to keep out of my bed!”

“Why? Y-you aren’t using it for anything w-worthwhile.” 

He sighed. “This is not a conversation we should be having.”

“I worry you w-will sunder yourself from h-happiness, Charles. I won’t s-say any more about  _ that _ , but do a-allow yourself to be h-happy. Please?” 

She spared him from answering by blowing out the candles and leaving him alone to look out at a lovely figure walking beside the sea. 

***

Charles would have been content to watch, but there on the moon-drunk sand, Klinger began to giggle like a schoolboy, spinning and darting after something which Charles could not see. The former Corporal wasn’t dancing, exactly, but there was a certain amount of grace in the way he navigated the beach, sand making patterns high on his ankles.

_ Irresistible,  _ Charles thought, standing. 

“What are you doing?” he called when he had drawn close enough to be heard over the surf. 

“Look!” Klinger pointed at something pale that went racing, skittering over the dunes. 

Called moon crabs or ghost crabs, the pale crustaceans were not new to Charles- but Klinger’s delight in them was. “What will you do if you catch them, darling?” 

“No idea. I just want to watch ‘em go.” So, Klinger watched the crabs (who, for all Charles knew, might be watching the stars in their turn) and Charles watched him, adoring his lithe, wiry agility, keeping a weather eye on the rise and fall of his chest. And soon enough he - who had always guarded his dignity so closely - was helping Klinger herd the crabs, splashing in salt pools, laughing in sea spray - and caught totally off guard when a decent breaker swelled and lifted the sand out from under their feet. 

Charles fell into the waves, legs stuck out before him, laughing to think his dinner jacket would be decorated, when it dried, with a crust of salt. Klinger landed on his knees, but was equally soaked and surprised… and breathless with laughter. “Night-swimming,” said Charles, “looks not to be our forte. Here.” He caught the slighter man at the shoulders and drew him up, braced him against the water. “Come on, my lovely ghost crab chaser.”  _ Your lungs don’t need the combination of water and night air.  _

“Where are we going?” Klinger asked, pleased with the arm wrapped around his waist. 

“It is for these situations,” though he doubted any other Winchester had been in one such as this- and oughtn’t they to envy him?, “that pool houses exist, dearest.” 

“You’re talking to a kid who ran through fire hydrants, Major.”

Charles did not wish the world he had grown up in on Klinger… it had done him entirely too much harm (advantages notwithstanding) to desire to see it visited on anyone else.  _ But would I have been a better man if I had met you sooner?  _ “Then let me introduce you to decadence, Max.”

Shedding their wet things in a tiled entryway complete with drainage, they brushed away the salt and the sand and dressed in robes - Klinger’s borrowed and much too big - and Charles made them warm, sweet, strong drinks - and left the maraschino cherries out so that Klinger could eat them out of the jar. 

Charles lit a fire in the fireplace for the sole purpose of watching the light flicker on Klinger’s dark hair. “Honoria suggested that she, ah, might have pressured you the other day.”

“About sleeping with you?” His eyes laughed. “She didn’t need to. I don’t want  _ you  _ to feel pressured, Major.” 

It made him smile. “It is my job to take care of you.”

“Just my lungs. You didn’t sign on for the rest.” 

“When I kissed you, I did.” 

“I kissed you back,” Klinger reasoned, “so I get to take care of you, too. There’s no hurry, Major. I’ll stay as long as you want me around. My pension’s little, but I can help out with groceries.

Money had made Charles’ life easier than it might have been, but he’d never been as grateful for it as he was then. “Maxwell, I can afford to  _ feed _ you.” 

“ _ And _ house me  _ and _ be my doctor?” 

“I would be yours, yes.” 

“Mine for good?”

“Maxwell, I believe I was yours for good and all long ago.”

“Wish you would’ve given me some kind of sign, Major.” 

“So do I. Could you see your way clear to accepting a belated one?” 

“Depends on what it is, I guess.”

“I would like to pick you up and take you in front of this fire until you scream my name. Will that do?” 

“Without listening to my lungs first? Didn’t know you had a wild side, Major.” 

“It may well prove a very fun night for you then, pet.” 

Max had never heard him sound that way. It made him shiver and nod frantically. If Charles had waited ten more minutes, he was almost certain the man would have held his arms out to him - but he didn’t make Max wait. He didn’t pick him up, either. He knelt in front of the younger man and pushed the folds of his borrowed robe up into his lap. 

“Are you shivering like that because you are cold, my sweet girl, or because you are thinking of the many, many of your creations I might have lifted above your pretty hips?” 

“I’m not shivering. I’m  _ trembling _ . Because you’re real gorgeous. And I wanna be a really, really good girl for you, Major.” 

“Then lean back, close your pretty eyes, and spread your legs for me.” 

“If you stop because I start breathing hard, I’ll scream, Charles - and not the good way you wanna hear.” 

“Duly noted.” 

And  _ that  _ was how Klinger got to witness the previously unconsidered possibility that saying fancy things wasn’t  _ all  _ the Major’s mouth was good for. With anyone else, Max might have worried about his dignity, but Charles knew he was crazy for him already and the ocean, he figured, should drown at his cries. So, he let his Major hear how much he wanted him, how incredible Charles made him feel, and how much he wanted this to be permanent. 

Charles thrived on praise - on being the undisputed best - and pretty Maxwell was both direct and  _ loud.  _ There was no call to guess or to question what he had done right; Max just insisted on more. 

“Is this not rather, ah,  _ fast _ , given that we have never, ah, previously…”

“We danced together,” Max reminded him, “so I know how it will be. And even with the lung stuff, you won’t break me, baby. C’mon, you know you’ve thought about it.” 

Charles closed his eyes and nodded. “Most days since I saw you, yes.” Privately he vowed that he'd solve "the lung stuff." He was a very good surgeon - and those lives had never been ones he wished to take permanently under his care.  


“And you know how to make it good.”

“How do you know that?” 

“You’ve never been anything else with me.” 

Charles could not fail to live up to that kind of faith - and he didn’t - not that night or in all the nights that followed. 

***

As autumn replaced summer, Pierce called to offer to bring Maxwell to Maine and Honoria and Max laughed in the background of the call as the Major said that Max would stay - but would the remainder of the gang see its way clear to a reunion next year? There was a small celebration he wished to throw. No it wouldn’t be perfectly legal - but the involved parties considered it enough. What was the point of money, after all, Charles joked, if one could not use it to secure the protection of those one loved best? 

Honoria laughed at her brother’s sentimentality (though she was privately pleased that he had expanded his world). “The wh-whole 4077 con-contingent at the Cape. Who c-could have ever im-imagined?” 

The End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
